


Afterdark

by ZombieCheeze



Series: Feel [3]
Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Body Worship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mentions of Consensual Noncon, Mentions of Rape Play/Resistance, Mutual Orgasm, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 18:15:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10904757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieCheeze/pseuds/ZombieCheeze
Summary: Perhaps Yunhyeong had never let go of the expectations he'd internalized as a child--grow up, marry a woman, have children--even as he found himself plowing Hanbin on the regular.





	Afterdark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yokogamasy](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Yokogamasy).



> Happy birthday [Yokogamasy](http://yokogamsy.tumblr.com)! It's a couple of days early, but I really hope you love it! <3 Thank you for such a great prompt! This fic is a sequel to [If It's You (Then My Body Is Not Wasted) (TW: Rape)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10758552) and the third in the series.
> 
> If you're reading this, we'd like to invite you to [check out the ZC/YSY DoubleB Zine collab project here](https://shop.trycelery.com/page/58cea08a0913bc120026a98b)!

“Hanbin, I know this is what you said you wanted, but…”

 

Yunhyeong’s lying facedown on the bed in only his underwear, his voice muffled into his arms, which are folded petulantly beneath his head. Hanbin can hear perhaps not his words clearly, but certainly the undercurrent of brooding disquiet in his voice.

 

However, Hanbin ignores him, swinging a leg over Yunhyeong’s hips and perching atop his ass as if he’s about to demand that Yunhyeong give him a pony ride. He hasn’t _completely_ written the idea off, but it isn’t in his list of plans just yet. He pauses, waiting for Yunhyeong to elaborate, and when he doesn’t, Hanbin prompts:

 

“Feels what?”

 

Yunhyeong blinks, brought back to reality by the sound of Hanbin’s voice. “Feels really _weird_.”

 

“Uh huh.” Hanbin says dryly. He runs his fingers thoughtfully along the edge of Yunhyeong’s waistband. “And?”

 

“You’re not going to make me stay like this the whole time, right?” Yunhyeong grumbles.

 

“You promised to let me do whatever I wanted in return for the last time, and this is what I want.” Hanbin says coolly, snapping the elastic of Yunhyeong’s underwear against his hip. Yunhyeong flinches at the sound as much as the surprise, and Hanbin can’t help but smile to himself. He’s already keyed up, already nervous, though he has no real reason to be.

 

“I don’t like bottoming.” Yunhyeong mutters, turning his head to one side on his folded arms to give himself breathing room. What Hanbin can see of his expression looks petulant.

 

“Yeah, well, that’s tough.” Hanbin says. “That’s what the safeword is for.”

 

But Yunhyeong says nothing, sulking, and worries his lower lip between his teeth.

 

It isn’t the physical aspect of bottoming Yunhyeong has issues with; in fact, he’d enjoyed it the few times he’d allowed himself to be talked into it. For him, it’s more a question of traditional values, things that had been honed and developed in him that can’t easily be deflected or reasoned with. Jinhwan calls it _fragile masculinity_. Junhwe calls it (ironically) _being a little bitch_ , though admittedly never to Yunhyeong’s face.

 

It’d been an honest effort, and perhaps a little bit of unacknowledged curiosity, but Yunhyeong wasn't able to enjoy it as the others did, consumed with the idea that it simply didn’t feel _manly_ , that this wasn’t the natural way of things.

 

It didn’t matter how much the others argued with him against that kind of mindset; Yunhyeong had found himself hating and fearing that intimate state of allowing another person _inside him_. He just isn’t able, nor willing, to open himself to anyone he doesn’t hold a position of power and Dominance over, no matter how slight. And perhaps he hadn’t really let go of the expectations he’d internalized as a child, either—grow up, marry a woman, have children—the real, _natural_ way of things—even as he found himself plowing Hanbin on the regular.

 

Nevertheless, their relationship is a funny one. Hanbin is unequivocally a leader, imperious and demanding, and his charisma is rooted in honesty and solid judgement that’s cemented their trust in him, no matter how hard he is on them. He may be deeply flawed as a person, as they all are, but he’s the best leader they could’ve asked for, and they’re all willing to follow his focus where they wouldn’t have followed the hyungs.

 

Yunhyeong had been the one to discover the weak point in Hanbin, quite by accident. It hadn’t taken long at all for him to learn that the very same weak point had been the perfect size and shape for Yunhyeong’s own needs, though until that point neither of them had known outright what it was they needed.

 

Initially, it had been Hanbin’s relationship with Bobby that everyone had expected them to settle into. They’re closer than brothers, closer even than lovers in some ways. Hanbin had grown dependent early on Bobby’s affection, and perhaps a little needy for Bobby’s help in the excessive demands of his daily life. Bobby had been all too happy to try, but unsure of how to best support Hanbin’s indistinct desires.

 

As a result, Hanbin grew more and more dissatisfied with the vanilla sex, the mounting frustration, though worse than either of those things was his inability to understand his own vague needs. Finally, he’d come undone when Bobby had left Korea and headed back home to see his parents for the first time in two years.

 

Desperately lonely, brittle, fracturing, he’d sought out the only person awake in the dorm at the time, the only person he felt he could rely on: Yunhyeong. It’d been a surprise to both of them when Hanbin approached him in the kitchen, heavy-eyed and twitchy with suppressed emotion, and latched onto his right arm without a word. The contact was like a spark in the night, zero hour—an immediate and easy closeness that hadn’t been there at all a few seconds before, and a quiet trust in the chemistry that had suddenly filled the room.

 

And after that initial contact, it hadn’t taken long at all for those vague, dark needs to come to a head between Hanbin and Yunhyeong. Blood will always out.

 

Yunhyeong, frustrated and tired of feeling powerless himself, had discovered beneath Hanbin’s hard exterior someone only too willing to yield to him. It was _intoxicating_ —to overwhelm Hanbin, to siphon out his own aggression and frustration on someone with such a vast capacity to absorb it, to be handed without reservation all the control he desired—and more.

 

The _more_ turned out to be a strange compatibility between them, flowering slow and drowsy in the darkness, showing itself petal by petal in the way Hanbin kept coming back to him outside of the sex. A happy coincidence that had Hanbin curling up against Yunhyeong’s back in bed more and more frequently, or hooking his chin over Yunhyeong’s shoulder in front of the stove as Yunhyeong prepared dinner, or dozing in his lap in front of the television. None of this had seemed unusual to Yunhyeong, and he hadn’t noticed himself seeking it out in turn until it was too late for either of them.

 

To be fair, none of this contact was unusual for any of them; a natural closeness within the group had been established early on in their lives, and their habits and gestures have ingrained themselves on one another as much by a factor of such close proximity as by the simple sheer enjoyment of touch. Junhwe and Bobby prefer a little more space, but even then, they’d learned to like the initiative and affection of those who craved the touch of warm skin, like Donghyuk and Hanbin.

 

Hanbin still _likes_ Bobby— _loves_ him—of course, and Bobby had learned some things about himself that help bridge the gap that had once existed between them, a certain Dominant persona that Hanbin would’ve given anything to have encountered three years ago. Back then, Bobby had been the one Hanbin relied on, but for all his natural, unshakeable confidence, he hadn’t been sure enough of himself to be the one to take Hanbin’s control away.

 

Instead, Yunhyeong had been the one Hanbin had opened to, while Yunhyeong put the roots of his sexuality down in Hanbin’s vulnerability; and for all their fluidity, with the seven of them swapping beds between one another like the tiles of a sliding puzzle, Yunhyeong had left his mark on Hanbin a long time ago.

 

The depth and resilience of that mark shows, in the way Hanbin sometimes pushes Yunhyeong into bed aggressively, goading him into a reaction, every bit as forceful and dominant as Yunhyeong himself. Fingers twisted into hair, gripping tight, spitting, swearing, shoving, until Hanbin’s compelled to give in by Yunhyeong’s greater strength. Hanbin sometimes wears his armor a little too thickly, buckled in too tightly by his willpower. Yunhyeong’s greatest talent is to convince Hanbin that he’s _allowed_ to be weak, that it’s safe to strip him of his resistance piece by piece.

 

Sometimes it’s in the way Hanbin glances at Yunhyeong across the table, and Yunhyeong’s own responding smile. It’s Hanbin sliding his fingers into Yunhyeong’s fingers backstage, or Yunhyeong’s hand resting in the small of Hanbin’s back when they speak quietly together apart from the group, foreheads touching. And sometimes, it’s in the way Hanbin’s mouth slants over Yunhyeong’s when they think no one’s looking.

 

Then there’s the rare occasion in which Hanbin agrees in advance to let Yunhyeong surprise him, to overwhelm and terrorize and consume him until Hanbin breaks under the weight of it. It doesn’t happen often, largely because it’s so hard on Hanbin, and partly because Yunhyeong rarely becomes so stressed these days, but the process and the outcome are always the same.

 

Hanbin’s ended up worse for wear from some of them than others, and all things considered he hadn’t come off too badly from their last scene. Nonetheless, he’d remained angry and sullen with Yunhyeong for almost a full day afterward, for reasons neither of them were entirely sure about. Hanbin hadn’t even known he was angry until he’d exploded during dance practice. He’d shouted him himself hoarse at the other six before throwing his snapback on the ground, shoving his way past them and emerging onto the rooftop under a cloudy sky to have a hissy fit and a smoke.

 

Yunhyeong was more than aware that it was his fault Hanbin was being like this, but he had the good sense not to bring it up among them. When Bobby tried to follow Hanbin, Yunhyeong caught him gently by the sleeve. “Leave it,” He said warningly, and Bobby hesitated uncertainly for a moment, his eyes darting between Jinhwan’s unhappy expression and Yunhyeong’s coolness. “It’s something to do with me. I’ll take care of it. You guys take a break.”

 

But by the end of the day, Hanbin had come down off his high temper. Yunhyeong found it easy to forgive him, as did the others. That night Yunhyeong had held him in bed, soothing away whatever residual hurts his actions had left behind. “I’m sorry for upsetting you.” Yunhyeong murmured, and Hanbin, still sweating and breathless, had let Yunhyeong pull him close and stroke his hair like always.

 

“Gonna make it up to me?” Hanbin teased.

 

“What do you want?”

 

Hanbin hadn’t replied right away, but the way his breathing changed told Yunhyeong he was thinking, and he wondered just a second too late what exactly he’d just set himself up for. “I want you to let me do whatever I want to you.”

 

“Wait, what?”

 

Hanbin shifted a little, pillowing his head against Yunhyeong’s sternum. “You heard me. Let me do what I want, without complaining.” He said, embarrassed.

 

“That doesn’t sound like fun for me.”

 

“It’s exactly what you do to me, hyung.” Hanbin retorted, voice heavy with irony.

 

“You complain the whole time!”

 

“Only because you want me to.”

 

“Alright, alright! Fine. I’m all yours, Hanbin. Just please don’t make me do anything embarrassing.”

 

In hindsight, just about anything Hanbin would’ve picked outside their normal pattern would’ve been embarrassing, and lying belly-down on the bed with Hanbin straddling him is as embarrassing as anything he could’ve imagined on his own. Any other time he might’ve sat up, pushed Hanbin down and taken over, but he’d _promised_.

 

So he keeps his protests to himself and allows Hanbin to get on with it, impatient for it—whatever the hell _it_ is. He’s still not entirely sure he understands what it is Hanbin wants.

 

Hanbin stays quiet too, bracing his hands against Yunhyeong’s shoulders as he adjusts his weight; then, slowly, he strokes his palms down the broad expanse of Yunhyeong’s back, thumbs resting on either side of his spine. Down, all the way until the heels of his palms rest in the dimples above Yunhyeong’s narrow hips, and then slowly back up.

 

Yunhyeong keeps still, frowning in concentration. Hanbin’s hands splay warm and flat across his shoulderblades, smoothing up and over the sides of his neck, pressing fingertips into the tension he finds there. If Hanbin had wanted to give him a massage, why hadn’t he just asked?

 

It might be weird, but it feels…nice. Hanbin’s touch changes from a firm hold to just the fingertips of one hand. He sweeps this light touch slowly back down Yunhyeong’s spine again, and Yunhyeong tries hard to relax, though the tension in his shoulders is locked in, set firm.

 

And nice as it is, Yunhyeong’s uncomfortable. Frustration and urgency punches him in the sternum nonetheless, safeword rolling around in his mouth impatiently, but he ignores it, swallows it back. It isn’t _for_ him, and if Hanbin can tolerate Yunhyeong’s proclivities, then Yunhyeong would feel both humiliated and selfish for throwing in the sponge too early. He’d rather just fuck Hanbin into a stupor—he’d _always_ rather do that—but he’d already agreed to endure this, whatever it is.

 

Cautiously, gently, Hanbin reaches forward, tugging Yunhyeong’s folded arms out from under his head and positioning them flat by his sides, palms down. His fingertips run slowly back and forth over the back of Yunhyeong’s hands, and Yunhyeong realizes he’s clenching his fists into the bedcovers.

 

He releases his grip after a moment, and feels the release of tension all the way up his arms and into his shoulders, eased by the softness of Hanbin’s touch as he turns Yunhyeong’s open hands over. Yunhyeong isn’t ticklish as a rule, but it’s strange how he shivers and flinches away from the curious gentleness of the rub of his thumb over the pulse point of Yunhyeong’s wrist, fingers sweeping up his forearm, into the crook of his elbow.

 

Improbably, and against every instinct he has, Yunhyeong feels himself getting hard. Hanbin’s fingers coast lightly back down Yunhyeong’s forearms, fingertips running over the delicate bones of his wrist until his hands relax again, palms opening to Hanbin’s touch.

 

The urge to get ahead of himself is almost overwhelming, but Hanbin manages to keep himself in check, manages to keep his head. He knows better than anyone else how cautious he must be, that this has to be done with the utmost subtlety. On some basic level, he’s aware that this is the way to reach past Yunhyeong’s barriers, if only for a moment. The only question he still holds is that of how long he can sustain it, or how long Yunhyeong will permit such reaching. If Yunhyeong catches on to what Hanbin’s doing, or if Hanbin gives the game away, he’ll withdraw at once behind his carefully built walls.

 

Because for all his tenderness, his kind openness and friendly ways, there’s a flinty side to him that Hanbin’s always hated brushing up against. Yunhyeong is hard where Hanbin is softest, and rather than seeking out that space in which he can safely expose that weakness, he’s made it a space and a shell of its own. He’s protective, gentle, almost worshipful, but his gentleness never spills over into vulnerability, and he never allows himself the embarrassment and intimacy of being cherished and loved in the same way.

 

He wants Yunhyeong to trust him, in the same way Hanbin trusts Yunhyeong with everything he has. Hanbin will make it easy, and he's ready to take the weight when Yunhyeong finally relaxes into his hands.

 

“Is it okay?” Hanbin says quietly into the silence.

 

“It’s fine.” Yunhyeong says, a little too quickly. Hanbin hasn’t even _done_ anything yet, but Yunhyeong’s embarrassed to sound so breathless already, pleasure coiling warmly in the pit of his stomach. His cock is completely hard now, trapped between his hips and the mattress, and heat washes through him gently with every sweep of Hanbin’s hands.

 

Hanbin, for his part, is calm, though he’s just as hard, jutting against the clingy fabric of his own boxers. He doesn’t pay it any mind, though; he’s far more focused on Yunhyeong, tongue poking out between his lips in concentration. He’s going to make Yunhyeong submit—even just a tiny bit, even if it fucking kills him—and that’s worth a hundred orgasms, a thousand. His own gratification is, as always, so much less important than his goal.

 

It helps that Hanbin’s weight is still pinning him to the bed, because Yunhyeong’s torn between urges, caught between rutting himself against the mattress and throwing Hanbin onto the bed and fucking him raw, making him writhe and scream and beg like he does so prettily.

 

But he does neither of those things, even when Hanbin’s weight lifts off of his hips. His impatience stirs again like a restless serpent, but all he does is raise his own hips automatically off the bed when Hanbin tugs at the waistband of his boxers, easing them down his legs and finally off to drop them on the floor in a heap with all Yunhyeong’s other clothes. He’s bewildered now, bemused by this gentle petting, and that’s what’s making him hesitate, compliant if not entirely willing.

 

Hanbin starts from Yunhyeong’s feet this time, carefully running his hands over the bottoms of them, his touch firmer here to ease the ticklishness. Fingertips brush the ends of his toes, then drag up over the ball of his foot, thumbs tracing the arch. A lighter caress follows the curve of his heel, as if Hanbin is mapping him solely by touch in order to recreate him later an inch at a time, sensing all his varied textures: The jut of his ankle bone, the thicker skin along his achilles’ tendon, the coarseness of the hair on his legs, and the way he becomes softer, smoother as Hanbin’s hands make their way slowly up his calves.

 

Whatever Hanbin is doing to him, though, it’s not at all what Yunhyeong had expected. It should be _weird_ —or, rather, it should feel weirder than it does—but this suddenly doesn’t seem so bad to Yunhyeong. It’s not even entirely sexual; this is pure appreciation, and deliciously sensual in a way Yunhyeong has never really been able to grasp.

 

But he’s impatient, too; indeed, that’s what got him in this mess in the first place. He can feel the restlessness shifting its weight again, indicating that he’s no longer impatient with Hanbin, but _for_ him.

 

He keeps telling himself he doesn’t prefer this, doesn’t even _like_ it—much—but this…

 

Hanbin paints swirls into the backs of Yunhyeong’s thighs, sending a renewed rush of blood south, making Yunhyeong squirm just a little; but he masters the urge, and after a moment Hanbin’s hands continue their path upward, little by little, thumbs finding the lower creases of his ass cheeks. Yunhyeong jerks when he feels the breeze of Hanbin’s breath on his lower back, and the weight and warmth of his body leaning over him, not touching but still _heavy_ somehow.

 

Yunhyeong’s surprised to realize just how much _more_ he wants. Truth be told, he might’ve even been willing to bottom for Hanbin if he’d asked just now, because his nerves are already straining toward every gentle touch, pleasure and eager arousal filling him up like fumes, like a heat haze. He wants to _feel_ , but he’d ultimately promised to feel only Hanbin for now. Hanbin is making him appreciate every single touch, the draft of Hanbin’s hot breaths against the small of his back, the way he holds Yunhyeong’s hips in his slow hands.

 

The gentle stroke of Hanbin’s palms over Yunhyeong’s ass could’ve even made him come, if he were the sort of person who did that; but Yunhyeong isn’t, and Hanbin knows it. But it feels so good, _so good_ , that he moans unconsciously into the bedsheets, arching into it slightly without knowing it.

 

But Hanbin’s hands don’t linger, and they drag—pull—the delicious sensations all the way up Yunhyeong’s back, sending shivers of pleasure through him.

 

Hanbin doesn’t kiss Yunhyeong like this, because he doesn’t want Yunhyeong to feel the smile on his lips. He makes a little sympathetic, encouraging sound in response, but says nothing; this is embarrassing and difficult enough for Yunhyeong without Hanbin praising him.

 

In its own way, though far more subtly, it’s exactly like Yunhyeong likes to do to Hanbin: To ply and seduce and caress him, convincing him to submit through soft touches and a refusal to hear the word _no_. Neither of them are thinking about the semblance just now, distracted as they are, with Yunhyeong sinking deeper and deeper and pulling Hanbin right down with him.

 

Hanbin lifts his weight from Yunhyeong’s thighs, sitting up slowly, dragging his hands back down over Yunhyeong’s back, his ass, his thighs. “Turn over.” He says, his voice barely above a whisper, and Yunhyeong does as he’s told, barely even considering arguing.

 

He cautiously swings a leg back over Yunhyeong’s hips, being extra-careful not to touch or brush against Yunhyeong’s cock, which is flushed red and as hard as he’s ever seen it.

 

The first touch of Hanbin’s hand against his belly makes Yunhyeong twitch involuntarily, overexcited, eager; Hanbin withdraws at once, startled by the sharp motion. “Easy.” He says softly.

 

Yunhyeong frowns, realizing that Hanbin mistook his flinch of excitement for fear. “No,” He says, and again he’s embarrassed at how winded he sounds, as if Hanbin were sitting on his chest instead of his hips. “It’s alright, it’s—it’s fine.”

 

He places his hands on Yunhyeong’s ribs instead, keeping a safe distance from his cock. “Still weird?” Hanbin can’t help himself asking the question, and for a tense moment he wonders if he just blew it, just fucked it all away.

 

“A little.” Yunhyeong replies after a moment, eyes closed. His jaw is slack, his lips parted, and his breaths are coming faster now as Hanbin’s fingertips begin their slow exploration of his skin again. “Feels nice.”

 

Hanbin hums, relieved by this response, his hands wandering slowly over the curves of Yunhyeong’s shoulders. He’d spent so long coaxing Yunhyeong down that it takes no more than a few passes of Hanbin’s hands for him to begin trembling with need, with excitement. Still Hanbin doesn’t give in, doesn’t touch him where he wants it most. Impatience surges up inside him once more, his mind fighting against this delicious slow torture even as his body would like nothing more than to give into it.

 

Fingers walk gently across Yunhyeong’s wrists, thumbs brushing the thin skin at the crook of Yunhyeong’s elbow before leaping the gap to slide down Yunhyeong’s ribs. Like before, so again Hanbin leans over to brush his mouth across Yunhyeong’s nipples briefly. Only the tease of his breath leaves any kind of lingering sensation, because he moves on without pausing, mouth soft and dry and light across his collarbones, his sternum. Yunhyeong lets out a breath he’d been holding in a long sigh, and Hanbin smiles against his ribs.

 

Those gentle hands move further down, back onto Yunhyeong’s belly, drawing lightly with his fingertips, and Yunhyeong’s abdomen contracts in response. He lets out a trembling breath that Hanbin realizes belatedly is a laugh.

 

“Tickles.”

 

“Sorry,” Hanbin murmurs, sliding his hands under Yunhyeong’s hips instead to lift him very slightly, feeling and experiencing the weight and warmth of his body in every sense. His belly is perfectly flat, his cock lying thick and heavy and hot along the line of his hip, leaving traces of clear precum drawn on the thin skin. Hanbin hesitates for only a moment before bending down lower to brush his lips along the line of tiny hairs arrowing down from Yunhyeong’s navel.

 

Yunhyeong’s _this close_ to snapping, maddened by the teasing. Each brush of Hanbin’s mouth and stroke of his hands has Yunhyeong’s nerves rising to the surface in eager protest, so that he arches, half-chasing Hanbin’s hands and the teasing tickle of his breath, the velvet texture of his lips. No, he wants Hanbin to kiss him for _real_ , to grab him, squeeze and stroke, for those caresses to turn into licks and bites.

 

Hanbin is overwhelming Yunhyeong, sip by sip rather than all in one bite. Hanbin senses Yunhyeong’s urgency, feels him shifting uneasily beneath him, and indulges him with a little bite to the hipbone, feeling and sharing the shudder of reaction that goes through him.

 

But Hanbin’s still exceedingly careful not to touch Yunhyeong’s cock, even though he wants to; even though he can see how urgent and desperate he’s becoming, the wet head of his swollen cock now leaking almost continuously, almost painfully hard. Still, Yunhyeong isn’t giving in to him, not yet—though Hanbin is slowly prying his grip away finger by finger, touch by touch.

 

Yunhyeong can’t, he _can’t let go_ , can’t allow this to go on. “Hanbin—” He says breathlessly, trying to sit up, but his body is slow to react, lulled and gentled by Hanbin’s touches.

 

“Mmm?” Hanbin pauses, looking up at Yunhyeong’s flushed face, his bright eyes, and then he slowly reaches forward to push him back down with a hand on his chest. Yunhyeong lets his head drop limply onto the bed, frustrated, irritated, so _fucking_ turned on he can’t stand it.

When it becomes evident that Yunhyeong doesn’t actually have anything to say, Hanbin resumes his gentle touches. Yunhyeong thinks he’s going to teach Hanbin a lesson later—

 

—only now Hanbin’s breathing on the inside of his thighs, effectively distracting him from his plans for retribution, heat rolling through him just at the simple touch of Hanbin’s fingers gently urging his legs apart. He hates being at Hanbin’s mercy like this, hates that he’d agreed to put up with it; desperate to seize and regain the control that’d been stripped away from him, to leave this vulnerable place before Hanbin can get too deep.

 

He groans, voice thick in his mouth. “Come on, Hanbin, just let me—ah, _god_ , I just wanna fuck you so _bad_.”

 

Yunhyeong’s eyes are closed, however, so he can’t see the narrow-eyed look Hanbin throws him, or the disdain and sly triumph in his gaze.

 

“No.”

 

The effect that single word has on Yunhyeong is immediate, not to mention complicated, and he only just manages not to fly apart, only just manages to hold onto himself; he stays where he is, but his body, which had been so relaxed a moment before, is tense now, shaken and tight with barely-suppressed orgasm.

 

Hanbin’s _no_ s have always set fire to Yunhyeong’s blood, sent him half-mad with aggression and lust, like the scent of blood in the water. That’s the first thing that happens, a lurch of pure reaction shooting through him, his belly quivering involuntarily with Hanbin’s touch. The urge to grab Hanbin and tear him limb from limb is almost overwhelming.

 

And yet for the first time ever, at least since Yunhyeong can remember, Hanbin’s _no_ is, for now, not coming from a place of weakness, or submission, or playacting. It’s _real_ , and Yunhyeong isn’t used to Hanbin refusing him with such certainty, refusing to let Yunhyeong bowl him over or take control of the situation.

 

It has him thrown so completely off balance that he can only lie there, too surprised to move, so aroused he can barely breathe, the tension ebbing from his body as quickly as it’d struck at him.

 

But he doesn’t protest. He has no idea how to respond to this, and he wouldn’t know what to do even if he could muster the clarity of mind to support his argument. This is beyond words and well into desperation.

 

He can’t even speak, because Hanbin’s sitting up between his spread legs, and Yunhyeong wraps his legs around Hanbin’s hips without thinking, inviting Hanbin in—silently begging to be touched where he’d never be able to ask outright. Hanbin’s already gotten to him, true, but Yunhyeong is _letting_ him, _wanting_ him. The idea sends a spiral of dizzy pleasure through Hanbin, and for a second he has to stop, taking deep breaths to cool the hot pounding of his blood.

 

And then, finally, Hanbin takes Yunhyeong’s cock gently in one hand, and Yunhyeong arches at once, the muscles in his stomach tightening excitedly. Hanbin had spent so much time touching Yunhyeong, _worshiping_ his body with those slow touches, that Yunhyeong’s been close to coming for what seems like hours. Every brush of Hanbin’s fingers along his hip, the hand sliding beneath the small of his back, the warmth of his palm stroking Yunhyeong’s cock, which is hot and hard in the grip of his hand—it all rises to a fever pitch, heat exploding through him without quite plunging him into orgasm.

 

Any other person, any other time, Yunhyeong would’ve found himself unwilling, unable to come under such gentleness; even now, he doesn’t want to come like _this_. It’s too intimate, too close, too vulnerable to be helpless in Hanbin’s hands. He raises his head a little, and through slitted eyes sees the hot flush in Hanbin’s cheeks, the fierceness of his expression, the jut of his jaw, a look of such fixed intensity the likes of which Yunhyeong hasn’t seen since their trainee days.

 

He’d like to tell Hanbin not to tease him, to hurry the fuck up, but it doesn’t feel right; it isn’t teasing in the sense that Yunhyeong had always thought of it. A tease might’ve bound his hands, restrained him, not trusting him to keep them to himself; and it’s true—even now, his hands close convulsively on the sheets to keep from grabbing at Hanbin. A tease would’ve lavished more attention on erogenous spots, fingers brushing his cock or probing at his entrance or cupping his balls, drawing out his desperation until he caved, pleading for release. A tease does it for _himself_ , for the sheer pleasure of tormenting him, pushing all the buttons over and over again, taunting him until he can’t take it any more.

 

But Hanbin hadn’t restrained him, nor had he given those sensitive places more than the briefest of bare touches; and yet here Yunhyeong is, desperate, wild, arching up against Hanbin with a singular screaming _need_ tearing through his mind.

 

Hanbin had had a purpose for this, but he’s forgotten it, lost sight of the horizon with how hot he feels just now, his body tensed and tight with his own pleasure. He’d never wanted anything more than to make Yunhyeong feel good in a new way. Still, he’s losing control of himself more rapidly than he’d like, his vision blurring and shifting as the sounds of Yunhyeong’s rapid breaths fill his ears.

 

Yunhyeong’s legs tighten around Hanbin’s waist, drawing him in closer; Hanbin comes to him, hot and eager, his mouth open and panting against Yunhyeong’s heaving belly. He moves to mouth at Yunhyeong’s nipple, exhausted, overwhelmed—so close to coming himself he’s losing rhythm, his senses running together like melting wax as he tastes Yunhyeong’s pleasure on the air—and then a convulsion like an earthquake beneath Hanbin’s cheek as Yunhyeong twists up sharply into him with a long, low moan—

 

Yunhyeong arches like a drawn bow into Hanbin’s hands, the black lightning of orgasm lancing through him; what’s surprising about it is that it doesn’t stop or fade, tightening and releasing over and over, deep wrenching pulses of pleasure like he’s never felt before. Some distant part of him is aware of Hanbin’s own moaning, of Hanbin’s tight grip on his waist, other hand tighter around his cock where he strokes Yunhyeong through the delicious rush of liquid heat.

 

He has no idea how long it lasts, or when he finally comes back to himself; the intensity had gone on for so long, so overwhelming, that he finds his body leaden and his ears ringing once he’s aware of the room around him again, his vision slowly clearing to show Hanbin hunched over and panting above him. He looks much less stubborn and serious now, the flush of his face spreading all the way down his neck now, the front of his underwear marked with the evidence of his own orgasm where he’d come untouched in perfect tune with Yunhyeong.

 

And to Yunhyeong’s great surprise, he finds himself as exhausted as if he’d been the one on top, as winded as if he’d just sprinted the last part of a race. His muscles are limp, wrung dry by his orgasm, and he trembles with weakness where he lies, Hanbin soft and warm against him.

 

Hanbin laughs breathlessly, sitting up onto his hands and knees, and then he turns his face away from Yunhyeong as if shy as the passion collapses in on itself. He runs his fingers along the back of his ear as if tucking his hair behind it, though it’s not yet quite long enough to do that with.

 

“Okay?” Hanbin says after a moment, smiling, still not quite making eye contact. His lips are swollen, his cheeks flushed with the heat of pleasure. Now that the moment has passed, Hanbin’s more than happy to fall back into his little self-conscious habits and allow Yunhyeong to cover for them; it had all been more draining than he’d expected.

 

“Yeah…” Yunhyeong murmurs. Hanbin makes as if to sit up, but Yunhyeong reaches out, finds Hanbin’s wrist, pulls him back down without regard for the mess of cum spattered almost up to his collarbones. Hanbin doesn’t mind, though.

 

Yunhyeong’s hand finds Hanbin’s cheek, holding him against his chest where Hanbin can hear the wild pounding of Yunhyeong’s heart against his breastbone. The warmth of Yunhyeong’s hard hand is exceedingly gentle, and Hanbin sighs almost without realizing it. It feels so good just to be held like this, as safe and calm as he’s ever been. He thinks that once he gets the feeling back in his legs, he might like a shower; Yunhyeong, however, would rather fall asleep right here, sticky and sweaty though they are.

 

Yunhyeong doesn’t really have it in him to protest when Hanbin coaxes him to his feet and into the shower, though he does appreciate it a little more than usual when Hanbin insists on fussing over him, still solicitous, a little unsure of himself after shedding his adopted role over Yunhyeong. It hadn’t been easy to maintain the presence of mind needed to hold everything together, any more than it had been easy for Yunhyeong to relax when he’d been so uncomfortably aware of his own submission, his fiercely-held passiveness.

 

So with only a minimum of fuss, he allows Hanbin to wash his hair, to scrub his skin and soap him all over with hands that tremble only a little, until Yunhyeong’s flushed with the heat of the water, suds pooling around their feet.

 

Afterward, Yunhyeong washes Hanbin up too, though he spends more time kissing him than washing him. Finally, he discards the loofah entirely to pin Hanbin against the wall and run soapy hands all over Hanbin’s slick wet skin instead, until Hanbin’s whining and rutting against his thigh helplessly with Yunhyeong’s tongue in his mouth. Yunhyeong’s too spent to fuck Hanbin for all his trouble, but there are many ways of making good on such promises, and he makes use of all of them.

 

Much later, when the shower spray finally begins to fluctuate between hot and cold, they finally extract themselves from the shower, Hanbin trembling and so weak and exhausted he can barely grip the towel Yunhyeong passes him. It’s cool and dark in the shared bedroom, the last yellowy light of sunset washed out of the curtains through which the open windows let the fresh air, the clear starlight and the last silvery sliver of a waning crescent moon.

 

Hanbin collapses into the bed inelegantly, towel still around his waist and his skin still beaded with moisture. Yunhyeong smiles down at him, tugging the cool sheets back—still scented, he thinks, like their bodies—and sliding in next to Hanbin.

 

Hanbin gravitates to his usual spot with his head in the pit of Yunhyeong’s shoulder, and Yunhyeong automatically wraps an arm around him, suddenly so sleepy he can barely keep his eyes open.

 

Hanbin sighs deeply through his nose, his breath warm along the line of Yunhyeong’s collarbone, and Yunhyeong’s suddenly wide awake. Something crazy is going off inside him, his heartbeat doubling as if running away, startled by the pop and sputter of fireworks up and down along his nerves. It feels bizarrely like fear, though after a moment Yunhyeong has no idea what’s frightening about it; it’s only a startling sense of ticklishness with Hanbin tucking himself into Yunhyeong more closely, humming sleepily, his eyelashes flickering when he turns his face inward against Yunhyeong’s neck.

 

His heartbeat begins to slow again, and drowsiness settles heavy once more on his eyelids as he good-naturedly envies Hanbin the ease with which he drops off to sleep these days. There’s a strange, warm glow inside him, something that retains the vestiges of the giddy pleasure left behind by Hanbin’s tickling breaths, though he doesn’t think too hard about it now.

 

“Night, hyung.” Hanbin whispers.

 

“Goodnight, Hanbin.” Yunhyeong murmurs in reply, his lips against Hanbin’s hairline.

 

Yunhyeong’s last idle thought before he falls asleep doesn’t quite register, as if hearing someone shout to him across a vast gulf of silence. That he can’t quite hear it matters nothing, in the end. In the morning it will break free, pry him apart and strike at him like the rays of the full-risen sun, waking him in an instant from the deepest of sleep. Then he’ll know just what it means, just what it is Hanbin’s done.

 

For now, though, it’s enough that Hanbin’s here with him, body meltingly soft against Yunhyeong’s, the rhythm of his deep peaceful breaths pulling Yunhyeong down into the depths of sleep alongside him. He’s already half-dreaming, already unable to tell the difference.

 

_All yours, Hanbin._


End file.
